


What Happened To Terry?

by Phantomreader42



Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: Cannibalism, Canon Backstory, Childhood Trauma, Gen, POV Minor Character, Poisoning, Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-06 20:43:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16840078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phantomreader42/pseuds/Phantomreader42
Summary: When Bonnie Hopps was little, her brother Terry ate a Night Howler flower whole, went completely nuts, and took a sizeable divot out of her arm.  For Judy, this is just a little nugget of information that sends her on her frantic drive to foil Smellwether's evil plot.  But Terry had to deal with that guilt on his own for all those decades.





	What Happened To Terry?

**Author's Note:**

> One-shot that came to mind as a slightly off-topic entry in the [/r/Zootopia Creation Theme: History](https://www.reddit.com/r/zootopia/comments/a0x0gd/rzootopia_creation_theme_24_history/)

Dr. Marian Renard heard the gentle knock, put down her latest patient's file, and stepped to the door. She opened it to find a grey rabbit. His ears were droopy, his eyes downcast, his fur unkempt, all common enough signs of depression in rabbits. He greeted the doctor with a weak pasted-on smile. She smiled back, keeping her fangs hidden out of courtesy. 

The bunny waved nervously. "Hi, Doc, I'm Terry, your 3-o'clock. They said to come on back, but I could wait a bit if you're busy."

"No trouble at all, I was just taking a last look at what records I have on you. There's was some kind of screw-up and we didn't get the notes from your last therapist."

"I haven't seen the guy in years, think he retired. I thought I was coping pretty well. Recent events have messed with my head a bit." His body language and scent made it obvious that he was anxious, but this didn't seem to stem from being in a confined space with a natural predator, as was often the case with rabbits. He didn't give that nervous sniff and nose twitch common among bunnies who aren't used to fox scent, so he had probably spent enough time among predators that wouldn't be an issue. He didn't smell of alcohol, or drugs, or risky sex. His latest meal had been pre-packaged microwave carrots, the kind of thing a bunny would eat if they lacked the time or inclination to find fresh veggies and make something truly nourishing. He was obviously down, but his reasons weren't immediately obvious.

"Why don't you have a seat and tell me about it, Terry?"

Terry took an impressive jump and flopped onto the oversized couch. "The recent issues have to do with my niece, Judy. Judy Hopps. Yes, _THAT_ Judy Hopps."

Dr. Renard knew exactly which Judy Hopps he was talking about. Everyone did. Everyone with access to reliable news sources in the developed world, at least. "Police Academy Valedictorian," she began, "first bunny cop. Hero of Zootopia. Considering all the nasty stuff Bellwether was up to, she probably headed off a wave of anti-predator violence around the world by putting that terrible sheep behind bars. It's a lot to be proud of." She paused, realizing that this in itself could be part of the problem. "But the fact that your niece has accomplished so much doesn't make you any less. She's an outlier, and it's not fair to hold yourself to that high a standard."

Terry laughed and shook his head, "no, Doc, that's not it at all. I'm real proud of little Judy. It's been too long since I've seen her, I should call and congratulate her. Judy figured out what Bellwether was up to and caught her. You know what she was using, Doc?"

Dr. Renard thought for a moment, then tried her tongue at the two obscure words the world had suddenly become so familiar with. " _Midnicampum holicithias_ ," she answered, "a flower commonly used in agriculture, with dangerous psychoactive properties."

"That's the one," Terry nodded. "When I was a kit, I ate one of those. Biggest, dumbest mistake of my life."

"That sounds like it would be an unpleasant experience." Even as she said it, it sounded like the understatement of the century. 

"It was, for my sister Bonnie," Terry agreed, "for me, it was just a blank spot. I woke up covered in blood, with a strange taste in my mouth and Bonnie screaming like something tried to eat her." He shuddered, "which I did. Didn't know that until a few minutes later though."

Marian nodded and jotted down a note. "And now that you're hearing all this news coverage of similar incidents, you're reliving your experience with Night Howlers?"

"Right, Doc. Unpleasant doesn't begin to describe it. It was terrifying. Blood everywhere, no idea what happened. My whole family freaking out. Some of them still won't speak to me to this day. And I was **SOOOO** sick the next few days."

"Ah, I didn't even think of that," Dr. Renard remarked, remembering some obscure medical facts on rabbits. "Your digestive system isn't used to processing meat, and you can't throw up, so." She shivered at the thought. "Oh, oh no. That's horrible."

"Not a pleasant thing to think about any time," Terry agreed with a shudder, "and I felt like total shit mentally and physically. Didn't help that my parents hid me for the first couple days. They were ashamed to tell Dr. Blanc why I was so sick, and how Bonnie got hurt. If anyone else found out, we might have all had to move. Do you know how bunnies react to someone who's tasted bunny meat?"

"Not the kind of thing many mammals would have experience with."

"And I don't mean to imply that you would," Terry said quickly, "but that's why I ended up moving here. When I'm around bunnies, I feel like they're afraid of me, like they somehow **know**. Because _I'm_ a bit afraid of me. I tried living in Zootopia for a while. Nice place, but I kept running into folks I'd known in the Burrows and panicking. So I went somewhere farther away, where most Burrow bunnies wouldn't follow. Not many bunnies here in Vixensburg."

"No, there are not," the doctor agreed, "you're not the first local rabbit I've treated, but there haven't been many." The last had gone into a full-blown panic attack at the sight of the receptionist, a tiny kit fox who, aside from his Bugga-Burga habit, showed no sign he had ever hurt a fly. Yet she was fine with vixens. That had lead to a heavy anti-anxiety prescription and a gentle recommendation to maybe move somewhere that didn't have such a high fox population it was literally named after them. "Now, Terry, you said you were afraid of yourself? What did you mean by that?"

"I know it's silly," Terry began, "It's been over forty years. But I can't shake the feeling that it might happen again. After I ate that flower, I woke up with no idea what was happening, no memory of it."

"And if you don't remember the first attack, you fear you could have a relapse without warning. The lack of a relapse in all this time makes that fear irrational, but not at all unusual. Reliving trauma is common, Terry. I see it all the time in this line of work. What concerns me is that the strategies you developed to cope with these feelings have suddenly stopped working. Aside from the news about your niece, what's changed? Is there anything different in your life recently? Any trouble with your job, or your sex life, or other family issues?"

"Well, I haven't spoken to most of my family in a while. My sex life is non-existent since Robin broke up with me a few months ago. But work's going great. I have a steady job with a crew loading and unloading shipping containers at the port. The team has this hazing thing where whenever a new prey mammal gets hired, they take them out for sushi, and last year I was able to join them without having a panic attack. Still a bit of work to go before I can actually EAT anything around raw fish, but it's progress."

Marian frowned, "that's a rather mean thing to inflict on someone in your situation."

"Oh, once I told them I had a bad experience with raw meat they made an exception for me. They don't know the real problem, but they're just playing around, don't mean any harm. They've been nicer to me here than we were to the foxes back in the Burrows, which is honestly a shame to think about. But my co-workers have been real understanding."

"Good, good. Now, about this Robin, why did he break up with you?" She had dated two Robins herself, but it didn't last. The jokes became unbearable at some point.

Terry gave an odd head tilt, then laughed. "No, Doc, Robin's a she. A nutria. Fun, playful, had a thing for buttercups. I showed her my niece on TV, and she did not take it well. Can't rightly say I blame her either."

"I take it this was during that unfortunate press conference?" Everyone had seen *that* incident too. If not live, then in reruns. The video was still on EweTube. Judy's later heroic actions had redeemed her in most eyes, but not all. 

"The things little Judy said were horribly backward, but that's just how it's always been in the Burrows. It took me a while to unlearn that garbage, and I had a pretty painful example. She just didn't know any better yet." Terry sighed and shook his head, "Doc, I don't have much contact with my family, but I still do love Bonnie and her kits. It's always been a hard choice between wanting to help and being afraid I'll screw something up."

"Do you think your sister still holds a grudge?"

"She did for a while, but not anymore. Last time I heard from her, she was sad to see me, but it was more because I was such a mess then. I'm sober now. I should visit, but what do you say after all this time?"

"One could write a book on the subject. In fact I know a few I could recommend." She looked back over her notes. "Terry, you seem like a fine rabbit. You're amazingly well-adjusted considering your experiences. I could write you a prescription if you feel you need it, but I think you're resilient enough to do without that. Is there anything else that's causing you trouble? Insomnia? Heart issues?"

"No, Doc, but I've got a question that's been burning in the back of my head. Bellwether used the same flowers I ate as a weapon. If little Judy knew what happened to me, do you think she would have figured it out sooner? Spared all those poor innocent predators from going through that?"

Dr. Renard sat, mouth open, blinking slowly. That was a pretty frightening question. And behind it was another *was this my fault?* She answered with yet another question. "Did you?" Now it was Terry's turn to blink in shock. "You heard about mammals going savage live on television. Your girlfriend left you because of what your niece said during that press conference, you were both shocked at it, which means you must have watched it as it was happening. You knew, better than perhaps any other mammal alive, what _midnicampum holicithias_ can do. Did you put the clues together?"

"No, Doc, I did not. Never thought of that before."

"If it didn't occur to you, how can you be blamed for someone else not knowing? You couldn't have known it was even possible to weaponize Night Howlers. The closest thing to that in medical or scientific literature before this case were a few tribes where warriors used the flower to go into a berserk rage, and that was voluntary and temporary, nothing like what happened to Bellwether's victims. Terry, you aren't to blame for this. But..." She trailed off.

"But what, Doc?"

"Have you considered the possibility you could help? You are in a unique position here. If all goes well, there are dozens of predators who will soon be waking up in hospital rooms, with missing memories, sore muscles, and no idea who they hurt or how badly. They'll probably have horrible dreams and be terrified of a relapse. You know what that's like."

"So it would be like group therapy?" 

"Yes, I suppose it would. It may help you as well, this will be your first opportunity to speak to someone who's had anything close to your experiences. You don't have to decide today." She quickly scrawled notes to herself in writing only a doctor would be able to decipher. "Think it over. I'd like to see you in two weeks. I'll use that time to run the idea by some colleagues in Zootopia. Dr. Carpenter and Dr. Baird have been working with victims of the attacks and their families already."

Terry smiled, a real smile this time. His ears wriggled happily. He'd coped with the fear and guilt left over from his horrible mistake all his life, to varying degrees of success, and now he might have a chance to do something more than cope. "That sounds like a wonderful idea, Doc! I could even visit little Judy while I'm there."

"I'm sure she'd be happy to see you. But maybe you shouldn't call her little." 

"Yeah, she was a lot smaller last time I visited. I'll look into the cost of a train ticket to Zootopia, this could be really good for everyone."

"You may not even need to do that. From what I've heard, the Zootopian government is putting a lot of money into fixing the Bellwether debacle, along with several charitable organizations. If they think you'd actually help the victims, they may fly you in for free. They might not be pleased that I told you that though."

**Author's Note:**

> I'm honestly surprised there's a tag for Uncle Terry. 
> 
> So, this guy ate a poison flower, then took a bite out of his sister. And assuming he was not aware of his actions while under the influence, that means he woke up covered in blood, with his sister screaming bloody murder and _a chunk of her meat in his stomach_ (which isn't set up to digest it safely, so it's probably going to putrefy and make him sick), and no idea at all how that happened. That's the kind of thing that can cause serious psychological issues. His whole family would be understandably freaked out, which would not help the trauma at all. And then, after decades of trying to deal with his guilt, he sees his niece on TV arresting someone for weaponizing the same flower? That's gotta mess with the guy's head too.


End file.
